


The Case Of The Lost Love Letter

by organanation



Series: TCOT Missing Movie Scene [2]
Category: Perry Mason (TV), Perry Mason - All Media Types, Perry Mason - Erle Stanley Gardner
Genre: F/M, Someone dies but none of us are sad, TCOT Lost Love, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 07:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23847181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organanation/pseuds/organanation
Summary: A fix-it fic for the movie TCOT Lost Love, in which a previous flame of Perry's comes and makes a mess of things. But don't worry-we're fixing it. Co-written with PerryLovesDella.
Relationships: Perry Mason & Della Street, Perry Mason/Della Street
Series: TCOT Missing Movie Scene [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718392
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I'm back today with a special collaboration piece co-authored with PerryLovesDella. We've been working endlessly on this for the past few months and are so excited to finally share it with you! As usual with my work, our gratitude goes out to ValancyStirling48 for her suggestions and corrections! I'll admit, this story started out very differently. It was supposed to be an angsty piece that dealt with grief and loss and mourning...but we didn't have the heart to kill off the character that had to be killed off for that. So we did this instead! I hope you'll forgive us!

Della bristled and channeled every bit of manners and grace she had. It would take every drop of self-control not to slap the woman across the face.

Instead, she gave Laura a terse smile and sought out Perry's eyes for a few brief moments before she excused herself from the room to take care of the "supplies."

Perry saw straight through her white lie, of course. She hated that she was so transparent to him.

The wish to lock the door behind her was almost overwhelming. She wanted to make him sit in the outer room and stew on why she was upset.

Which would hardly be fair. It wasn't his fault that...that woman was here.

Della knew Perry loved her, knew it even beyond the shadows of doubt that were hanging over her head right now. The history between Perry and Laura would never mean anything compared to what existed in the present between Perry and Della.

She hated that they had kept their relationship secret for so long that bringing it out in the open seemed foolish and inconsequential. It's not like they were really missing out on anything. She would be the one beside him at dinner, in court, or in bed no matter who knew of their relationship. She didn't know any married couples who shouted their love for each other from the rooftops...but having the option to do so...

'You never married?' Della had never wanted to slap someone more than she had in that moment.

She sat down at her makeshift desk and reached for her leather folio. This one was newer and still smelled of leather. Her initials were embroidered in the corner, just like the two or three before, which had all worn through from use. Della knew that tucked inside one of the small pockets on the inner face was a card in Perry's cramped writing. It was from the first folio he'd given her decades earlier.

My Darling Della,

For you, so you don't have to rubber-band all those paper files together and cart them to the courthouse that way.

Will you marry me?

Perry

It hadn't been his first proposal, nor had it been his last. He'd signed every personal letter, birthday card, and phone message like that over the years. Their own little secret code that meant I never thought I could love you more than I did yesterday, but here we are today...

Tucking the note back into it's special pocket, Della pulled out a clean sheet of paper and her favorite pen.

Dear Mrs. Robertson,

I'd like to formally answer yours and everyone's questions about the relationship between myself and Mr. Perry Mason. Not that I feel that it is your business to know, but because people are constantly speculating incorrectly, I would like to set the record straight. And not that you are deserving of an explanation, but simply because you were bitchy enough to ask outright:

No, I never married. Not in the legal or conventional sense of the word at least. But in the sense that I have dedicated half my life to one man...more than half my life, my time, my energy, sometimes my sanity, and certainly all my love, yes, I am bound by heaven and earth to Perry Mason.

Incidentally, Perry never married either. It wasn't for lack of trying-he proposed to me several times. I stopped counting at fifteen. We both knew, or thought, at least, that the legal institution of marriage wasn't for us. That said, we've spent the better part of forty years cohabitating. Now, before you clutch your pearls and click your tongue, let me assure you: I do not regret it. I wouldn't give up the comfort and peace I have had for these forty years to assuage your embarrassment on my behalf. Falling asleep and waking up beside the love of one's life is a gift like no other. Never did I have to worry about him staying at the office all night by himself. I never had to wonder if he was alright when he went home after a criminal was released from prison. If I couldn't sleep, he was there.

We've gone through everything together, from the extraordinary to the mundane. Murder trials. Health scares. Orange peels stuck in the garbage disposal. We've moved offices and houses and furniture. There's really very little we haven't experienced together.

One more thing, before I close: I know. I know everything about your relationship with Perry. Not because I asked out of suspicion or a morbid sense of curiosity, no. Simply because Perry told me out of trust. I know all the cute little secrets you had. All the things you did that ultimately ended your relationship. He told me every time he saw you after things ended so, so long ago. Again, not because of suspicion or doubt, but because we trust each other with everything. Everything.

Please know that while I do not enjoy your intrusion into our lives, I do not see you as a threat. I'm not worried about Perry being unfaithful to me, especially with the likes of you. I merely feel this is an annoyance; one that will quickly pass, and one we will work hard to avoid in the future.

Very insincerely yours, Della Street

Della read through the letter and rummaged through the drawers for a match to get rid of the evidence. She jumped when the door clicked open.


	2. Chapter 2

"What are you up to?" Perry asked, closing the door and setting aside his cane.

"Looking for an ashtray so I can burn this evidence on the balcony," Della teased.

"We asked for nonsmoking rooms," Perry reminded her, coming to look over her shoulder. "No ashtrays. What sort of evidence are you concealing? No specifics, mind you, or I won't be able to defend you."

"Just writing out my frustrations," she excused, quickly folding the letter before he could read her petty fears and insecurities.

He caught a glimpse of the first line before she tucked it away in her folder: Dear Mrs. Robertson, I'd like to formally...

He could only hope that it continued, "I'd like to formally tell you to fuck off…"

"Has Laura left for the evening?" she asked, not able to keep the slight tinge of anger out of her voice when she said the woman's name.

"Just you and me," he answered.

"I'm going to take a shower before bed," she said, trying her best to act like her mind wasn't racing.

"I'll be here," he promised, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

"You'd better be," she replied, unsuccessfully trying to disguise her serious words with a teasing tone.

Perry knew this whole mess was beating at her like waves on a breakwater. She would outlast the storm, could stand for decades after it passed-but the rough seas would slough away at the surface, eroding little cracks and divots in a once pristinely smooth surface. He had no love for Laura anymore-if he were being honest, he had never had love for Laura, and certainly not the kind of love he had for Della.

He wished he could stand in front of her, let the waters break over him instead. It wasn't fair to her that Laura had waltzed back into his life-their lives-and was doing her best to upset...everything.

What he'd interrupted earlier between the two women...he didn't even want to fathom a guess. Laura had had a evilly-satisfied smile on her face as Della made her hasty retreat, and Della? Perry had never seen the combination of contempt and anger on her face. Laura had caught her unawares and landed a hit below the belt.

He knew that throughout the case he hadn't been the person Della needed. They were both tired of digging through the deceit. Their relationship, based completely on trust and communication, was supposed to be their respite from cases. But this case had infiltrated that.

The letter was right there-it would undoubtedly tell him the full depth and breadth of her troubles. But she obviously hadn't wanted to share it with him...reading it would be a breach of her privacy, a breach of their trust.

Had he been 30 years younger and stupider, Perry probably would have marched into the bathroom and interrupted Della's shower, figuring it was best to lay everything on the table, hash out every decision and make certain that everyone involved knew where he stood with Della-especially the woman herself.

But those 30 years had taught him that sometimes patience is truly a virtue, and sometimes it was better not to talk through every single point and show, rather than tell, Della exactly how he felt.

He was sitting at the table, reading through a sheaf of papers, when she got out of the shower. She met his gaze across the table as she ran a comb through her hair. She got into bed after tossing the comb into her bag and slinging her towel over the rod.

"Young lady," he said, calling for her attention.

"Yes?" she asked.

"After we finish our responsibilities here, what do you say we go on that cruise we've been putting off for a few years?" He glanced over his shoulder. Della smiled.

"Would you care to put that in writing?" she asked, the playful lilt that he knew and loved finally returning to her voice.

"You know as well as I do that there are a hundred ways to break a contract," he replied, setting aside his work and coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. "No, we need something morally binding. A gentlemen's agreement is settled with a handshake. A compact between lovers...convention calls for a kiss," he said in unspoken request.

"You promise?" she asked, resting against the pillows.

"Yes," he answered solemnly. He leaned in and caught her lips in a kiss. "I promise."

Della rested her hand on his shoulder and leaned into the broad expanse of his chest.

"Coming to bed?"

He knew, then, that all was forgiven.


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks later

Della sat down across the kitchen table from Perry and opened her leather folder. It was their custom after a case to sit down and sort through all the paperwork, deciding what could be shredded and what had to go in the file for the records.

Meeting notes, shred. Contract, file. Trial transcripts, file. Angry letter to Laura? Shred. It was behind them now, and in 48 hours, they'd be on the deck of an ocean liner.

Perry was still working to sort all of his papers after Della had finished hers, so she left him working to retrieve the empty file folders and type up the appropriate labels.

Perry zipped his tidied portfolio and set it to the side, moving to sort through the To-File pile and put it in some sort of an order. He heard Della down the hall, the keys of her typewriter clicking as she made out the labels. It amused him that she still preferred that giant metal monstrosity over the computer for certain tasks, but he'd learned not to argue.

Everything seemed to be in order, except for the bail agreement. He'd just seen it a few moments ago-it had probably wound up in the shred pile by mistake. Perry reached for the shred pile at the end of the table and sifted through the documents.

He stopped short when he found a folded piece of lined paper in Della's hand-not the only one in the pile, by any means, but the only one that began with, "Dear Mrs. Robertson."

He opened the letter and fumbled for his reading glasses. It was time to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

Perry had only read the first few lines of the letter, when a sudden urge hit him. He tucked the letter into the pocket of his suit jacket, and made his way down the hall to his study. Closing the door behind him, he sat down at his desk, pulled out his favorite fountain pen (the one he used to sign only his most important documents), and got to work.

It was just a short while later that Perry twisted the cap back onto his pen, refolded the letter, and laid them both down in front of him. Steepling his hands in front of him, he leaned forward on his elbows, and pressed his hands against his forehead.

His usual habit of making notations on legal documents was not lost on him, certainly not when he had such an important letter in front of him. Reading Della's words, well….the first thing he felt was a swell of love and pride at what she had written. She had certainly given Laura exactly what she deserved, he marvelled. The second feeling though, was a dawning of understanding. The sudden strike of intuition that he usually got in the courtroom, now hit him full force. This is what he had interrupted that day in their hotel suite, he was almost certain. There must have been some sort of dialogue between the two - Laura had obviously made a comment about how Della had never married, at least according to the letter. That was surely what had set her off. After all, they were as good as married, and Della, who never judged other people no matter what they said or did, had never liked the idea that someone might judge her. Laura had no doubt been pleased by her remark. And Della. His beautiful, kind, warm Della….she had probably wanted to strike Laura. Well, either Laura or Perry himself. Perhaps the both of them.

A delighted chuckle escaped his lips when he thought of the look on Laura's face if Della had let loose with her diatribe at that moment in time. What he would have given to have been a fly on the wall for that. Della could be rather...colorful with her language, when she got a full head of steam. She had to be awfully angry to let herself get to that point, though.

His mind drifted off as he thought of the woman he had loved for over 40 years.

Della was sweet, and loving - and unfailingly polite, even to people who didn't warrant her kindness, but she had a stubborn streak, a spine of steel, and the ability to defend herself and those she loved, without hesitation. The first time that he met her was when she arrived at his office 10 minutes early for an interview. She had answered the ad he had put in the LA Times, after his then secretary had suddenly announced that she was ready to retire, and move with her husband to Arizona. When he opened the door to call her in, he was struck by the beauty of the most glorious creature he had laid eyes on. During her interview, she presented herself as both professional and feminine, and Perry knew he would hire her before she even finished the interview. Over the years, Della had proven to be as brilliant as she was beautiful, and never did a day go by that he wasn't supremely grateful that she had agreed to work for him.

Now he was back to the question of knowing what to do with the letter. Perry picked it up again, and tapped the end against the palm of his free hand. Should he give it to her, or respect her wishes that it be shredded with the rest of the paperwork they no longer needed? If he did give it to her, when would be the appropriate time? Perhaps he should-

"Perry?"

He heard her voice first, then the click-click-click of her heels on the hardwood floors outside the room.

Moving as quickly as he could, Perry shoved the letter inside the bottom right hand drawer of the desk. He'd keep it there until he decided what to do. No sense in getting Della worked up again with talk of Laura; certainly not when as soon as the files were labelled and properly put away, they'd be packing for their cruise. Perry managed to shut the drawer, prop his elbow on top of the desk, and lean against his fist in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

"Excuse me, Chief." The use of the first nickname she had ever given him brought a smile to his face, as she peeked her head around the side of the door, flashing a grin to match his. "I've finished the labels. Now, since I know how much you love paperwork, and since I don't want to begin an epic battle of wills - I'd like to make you a deal. Care to hear it?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I assume that it will be mutually beneficial to both parties, Ms. Street?" Della had walked over to Perry, and as soon as she got close enough, he took her hand, and pulled her to sit on his lap.. "Actually, I can think of quite a few things that would be mutually beneficial….and I can assure you, none of them involve paperwork in any way."

Della threw her head back, and laughed. "I'll allow you to make your case later tonight, Mr. Mason. For now, my proposition to you is this: I tackle the filing," she grinned, knowing that Perry would do just about anything to avoid paperwork, "and you prepare us a couple of steaks for dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm famished." She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. "What do you say?"

"Is that all you want? I must admit, I'm more than a bit disappointed, but since it's apparent that I'm getting the less tedious part of the bargain, then you have yourself a deal. A couple of steaks versus filing? I don't even have to think about it."

"Uh-uh. Not so fast, Counselor. You also need to make a salad, side dishes, and pick out the appropriate wine. I want a proper meal. Bread included." Another kiss, this time to his lips, followed.

"You've got it, darling - two steaks, wine, and all the trimmings."

"Perry?" Della pulled away slightly, and looked into his eyes. "Why do I suddenly get the feeling that there's something you're not saying?"

"Me? Did you ever bother to think that if there's something I'm not saying, it's because I've been struck speechless by your stunning beauty? As I am every time I look at you."

She eyed him skeptically, but gave him a quick squeeze and a kiss before extricating herself from his embrace, to head back to the kitchen. "Uh-huh. Let's go, Counselor. I'm not certain I believe your story, but I'm much too hungry to investigate further. Besides," Della made a face of utter disdain. "The sooner we put this case to bed, the better I'll like it. I'll meet you in the kitchen in 5 minutes. Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Perry replied to her retreating back. He pulled the letter from the drawer, and tucked it into the case file. He'd make his decision on what to do with it later.


	4. Chapter 4

5 Years Later

Della opened the door to the front porch, basking for a moment in the early morning California sunshine, before beginning her search in the bushes for the newspaper. The paperboy never seemed to be able to manage to aim the paper at the porch itself, and so Della, after many conversations beseeching him to try just a bit harder, resigned herself to playing a bit of hide and seek each day.

"Ahh, there you are!" She extricated the paper from the bushes, and made her way back inside.

Perry was waiting for her in the kitchen, piling eggs and toast onto a plate for her, and pouring her some hot coffee.

"Where was it this time?"

"In the bushes," came the reply. "Second time this week. If he keeps this up, his version of accuracy is going to ruin my fun."

"Anything interesting in the paper today?" Perry seated himself across from her, and laid his napkin on his lap.

"You could look for yourself, you know."

"I could, but you know how much I love it when you read to me. Besides, my glasses are somewhere in the bedroom. God knows where you threw them last night. After breakfast, we'll go find them, and if you're lucky, I'll give you the opportunity to throw them again."

"Enough of that," Della laughed. "We have things to do today, so your glasses - and everything else - can wait for a while. Let's see now…." She laid her fork aside, and perused the paper carefully. "The captain of the Exxon Valdez has been cleared -"

"I told you that would happen."

"So you did. Good call, Counselor - another one you got right. Now let's see what else we have here….oh, you'll find this interesting. Manuel Noriega has been sentenced to 40 years on drug charges."

"No interest at all. How about something closer to home?"

Della put aside the main section of the paper, and picked up the local news. "It's probably going to be nothing but local politics, but….oh my." It was right there, on the front page. "Perry it's….it's…."

"What, Della?"

"Laura."

"Don't tell me she's running for the Senate again?"

"No, Perry….she's….it seems she had a heart attack at her home and….oh Perry. She's gone."

"I see." The look on his face was inscrutable, and he said nothing more, as he took a bite of his unbuttered toast.


	5. Chapter 5

Della opened the door to one of the spare bedrooms that she and Perry used as a storage room for their files. She had the entire house to herself, and until just now, she had no idea what to do with her unwanted free time.

Perhaps it wasn't necessarily unwanted. If she was being honest, Della was rather glad that she was alone. Perry had been moody, brooding, and uncommunicative for days, and the worst thing was, he wouldn't even tell her what the problem was. Oh, she knew it had something to do with Laura, but what that was, she wasn't quite sure. Initially, she had tried to be understanding and compassionate, urging him gently to tell her what his issue was, but that didn't work. After a few days of that, Della found herself getting impatient and resisting the urge to smack some sense into him.

Perry had taken a drive - to run some errands, he said. No, he didn't need Della to come along with him. He was perfectly capable of running errands on his own. No, she needn't wait lunch for him, he probably wouldn't be back that soon. He needed some time to himself.

Della's irritation - an emotion she wasn't used to feeling, certainly not towards Perry - was growing. Hadn't he always insisted that she come with him to do something - anything - with him, if she wanted? Perry hadn't "needed some time to himself" before. Not when it didn't involve a case they were working on.

She was being unfair, and she knew it.

Though she could understand that it would bother him somewhat that Laura was gone, this was too much, his cutting himself off from her.

That was the deepest cut of all.

Perhaps if she kept herself busy, did some chore around the house that she had been putting off, it would relax her to some extent, and then she could keep from biting his head off when he came home.

Dusting was obviously out; she avoided that whenever possible. So much so that Perry had decided he would add it to his list of domestic chores approximately one week after they had moved in together. She could vacuum, she supposed. The noise of the machine would keep her from thinking too much. The only other thing she could think of was - yes. It was absolutely perfect, was what it was.

For a few months now, Della had been considering clearing out the files from their cases. It was a standard procedure that she went through annually, but since it took so much time, she had rather procrastinated doing it. Perry, despite being a more mature age, was still going strong, and though they could afford to pick and choose the cases they took now, he still had a soft spot for a deserving underdog, and so subsequently, they were busier than ever. Files needed to be moved from the office to their home, and the files from home needed to be purged to make room.

Making her way towards the filing cabinet, a small box caught her eye. Forgoing the idea of file purging for the moment, Della took a deep breath and gently lifted the lid off the box.

Paul.

His smiling face beamed up at her from the front of his PI license. Once Junior had taken over the space, Della had removed everything she deemed important from his office, and carefully tucked it away in this box for safekeeping.

This was how she remembered Paul; young, vibrant, handsome, and willing to do anything for his best friend - and for her.

Della truly missed him in moments like this. Once he had been told about her relationship with Perry (Paul was a brilliant detective, but he had missed so many obvious clues with regard to this particular subject that both Perry and Della had begun to wonder about his abilities), Paul had become even more of an overprotective big brother figure to her than he was before. Gertie had once told Della that she had overheard Paul tell Perry on more than one occasion that he'd better treat "Beautiful" right, or else he'd have Paul's wrath to deal with.

What she wouldn't give to have him with her right now. He always could make things clearer for her, and cheer her up. Perhaps he would have been able to get Perry to open up about what his problem was.

Della took the license from the box, and held it briefly against her lips, before brushing a tear from her eye and taking a deep breath against the wave of emotion. She replaced the box and its contents to their original place, then steeled herself against the filing cabinet. It was time to get back to work. She couldn't allow herself to wallow in sadness; she had things to do.

Quick work was made as one file after another was glanced through, then placed in an empty container for shredding. The sight of some of the case names made her smile, others caused her to pause and reminisce for a moment or two, and still others didn't even warrant a second look.

Two hours had gone by before she came to it.

The City of Los Angeles vs. Laura Robertson

The name on the file stuck out like a sore thumb, and Della bit back the decidedly unladylike comment that she had been about to make. There was no need to resort to vulgarities when they weren't necessary, now was there? Besides, there wasn't anyone there to appreciate her creative cursing anyway, since that person was currently out God only knew where, doing God only knew what.

Laura Robertson could no longer say or do anything to irritate Della, could no longer try unsuccessfully to make her feel insecure about Perry and his feelings for her. Except for the fact that this was exactly what she was doing. Della was beginning to think she had been foolish to believe all of Perry's protests that Laura had never really meant anything to him, and that he had been well over her before he met Della, and most assuredly after.

"Damn you," Della muttered. File in hand, she drew her arm back, and much as she had as a girl when she would play baseball with her brother in the backyard of their home, lobbed the file as hard as she could, landing most of it inside the wastebasket a decent distance across the room. She smiled with the satisfaction of knowing that her aim was as impeccable as always, Still, there were a few pieces that hadn't quite made it in. Then too, she knew that she would take even greater satisfaction in shredding this file personally than she had venting her frustration at it.

Picking up the few errant pieces was a quick job, and Della shoved them hurriedly back in the folder before getting up from her kneeling position. Turning to deposit the file in the container with the others, her eye caught the corner of an envelope that she had missed. She bent down, and was hit with a sudden sense of realization. Della knew exactly what it was at once, though she had almost forgotten its existence. She carefully extracted the letter from the envelope, and unfolded it, blinking in surprise at discovering not only her handwriting, but the blue inked handwriting that she would have recognized anywhere. No one else used ink in that particular color, nor made their "D's" in that particular way.

She sat on a nearby sofa, and began to read.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Dear Mrs. Robertson,  _

_ I’d like to formally answer your and everyone's questions about the relationship between myself and Mr. Perry Mason. Not that I feel that it is your business to know, but because people are constantly speculating incorrectly, I would like to set the record straight. And not that you are deserving of an explanation, but simply because you were bitchy enough to ask outright:  _ **Are you surprised? She** **_is_ ** **a bitch.**

_ No, I never married. Not in the  _ legal _ or  _ conventional _ sense of the word at least  _ **We still can be. I know several judges who’d be more than happy to tie our knot, not to mention you know that Stefan’s been after us for years to make it legal** _. But in the sense that I have dedicated half my life to one man... _ more  _ than half my life, my time, my energy, sometimes my sanity, and certainly all my love, yes, I am bound by heaven and earth to Perry Mason.  _

_ Incidentally, Perry never married either. It wasn’t for lack of trying--he proposed to me several times. I stopped counting at fifteen.  _ **It was 57 times, and I can tell the exact details of each and every one of them. Care to make it 58?** _ We both knew, or thought, at least, that the legal institution of marriage wasn’t for us. That said, we spent the better part of forty years cohabitating.  _ **Amendment: forty** **_exhilarating_ ** **years** _. Now, before you clutch your pearls and click your tongue, let me assure you: I do not regret it. I wouldn’t give up the comfort and peace I have had for these forty years to assuage your embarrassment on my behalf. Falling asleep and waking up beside the love of one’s life is a gift like no other.  _ **Don’t I know it!** _ Never did I have to worry about him staying at the office all night by himself. I never had to wonder if he was alright when he went home after a criminal was released from prison. If I couldn’t sleep, he was there.  _ **To be fair, most of the time** **_I’m_ ** **the reason you can’t sleep.**

_ We’ve gone through  _ everything _ together, from the extraordinary to the mundane. Murder trials. Health scares. Orange peels stuck in the garbage disposal.  _ **I told you not to put orange peels in the garbage disposal. Orange peels and forks. You never do listen to me.** _ We’ve moved offices and houses and furniture.  _ **Let’s be honest; you don’t move the furniture; Paul Jr. does. You merely tell him where it goes. Loudly and repeatedly.** _ There’s really very little we _ haven’t _ experienced together.  _

_ One more thing, before I close: I know. I know everything about your relationship with Perry. Not because I asked out of suspicion or a morbid sense of curiosity, no. Simply because Perry told me out of trust. I know all the cute little secrets you had.  _ **I must correct you again; they were never cute. They were incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. Much like Laura herself, now that I think of it.** _ All the things you did that ultimately ended your relationship. He told me every time he saw you after things ended so, so long ago. Again, not because of suspicion or doubt, but because we trust each other with everything. Everything.  _ **How could I not trust you? I knew from the beginning you were trustworthy, when I gave you unfettered access to my checking account, and my stockpile of licorice whips, and you never took more than what was appropriate.**

_ Please know that while I do not enjoy your intrusion into our lives, I do not see you as a threat.  _ **No, she always saw you as a much bigger threat, I assure you. You couldn’t threaten her; she would have to have mattered to me for you to have anything to threaten.** _ I’m not worried about Perry being unfaithful to me, especially with the likes of you.  _ **I never would be, and** **_certainly_ ** **not with the likes of her** _. I merely feel this is an annoyance. One that will quickly pass, and one we will work hard to avoid in the future.  _ **Once this case is finished, you should see what I have planned for us. We won’t have to work hard at avoiding her.**

_ Very insincerely yours, Della Street  _ **You’ve never been insincere a day in your life, and you know it. I know you mean every word of this letter.**

At the very bottom of the note, Perry decided to add in a brief postscript. 

**My Darling Della,**

**You might be surprised to know that, though it doesn’t happen very often, I find myself at a loss for words. Rarely do I come across someone or something that can render me speechless, but you’ve managed it quite a few times in the past, and you’ve managed it again now.**

**You are that person, and this letter is that something.**

**I have never had any issue with writing a letter, a speech, a legal document, or anything else, but right now, I’m finding it difficult to express to you exactly how I feel. The things you wrote to Laura (I hesitate to mention her name because she doesn’t deserve the privilege of having her name appear anywhere near yours), of your feelings for me, about us and our life together….they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. I don’t honestly feel that I’m worthy of having you in my life, but I am eternally grateful that for whatever reason, you seem to be satisfied with me, and that you love me as much as you do.**

**You’re quite right, you know, when you say you don’t have to worry about my stepping out on you. Who would be foolish enough to go out for hamburger when you have steak at home? (I technically stole that line from Paul Newman, but as he’s one of your favorites, and as it expresses exactly what I feel, I’m certain you can cut me some slack). You’re everything that I ever dreamed of -- everything that I ever wanted, but was certain I’d never get. The day you walked into my office was the most fortuitous day of my life, and it has only gotten better from there. Thank you for being so absolutely perfect, and for being so absolutely perfect for me, and for loving me as much as I love you.**

**That’s quite a lot.**

**I always live in hope that one day your answer might be different, and then for once, I’ll be the one who’s surprised -- so I’ll finish this letter now, the way that I always have, and the way that I always will until that day comes.**

**Della, my love, will you marry me?**

**Forever Yours,**

**-Perry**

“Oh Perry,” Della’s eyes began to tear up, as she clutched the letter tightly to her chest. “I should have married you the first time you asked me 35 years ago,” she whispered.

“Yes, you should have.” 

Della turned her head, and caught sight of the love of her life leaning on his cane in the doorway. 

“I - I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been standing there?” She was avoiding his gaze, and making some useless attempt to dry her eyes. She was pleased to note that her voice was as strong and sure as ever.

“Just a few minutes. I called to you, but you must not have heard me. Since we seem to once again be discussing marriage, perhaps I should ask in a more conventional manner. Now, I suppose that I could attempt to get down on one knee, but to be honest, while I’m sure I could get down,” he waved the cane around a bit, “my need for this confounded contraption makes it veritably certain that you’ll spend the remainder of your day trying to get me back on my feet. Hardly the romantic result either one of us would hope for.”

His eyes never left hers as he moved forward to take her hand, and join her on the sofa. He leaned his cane against the side before beginning his speech.

“I know that lately I haven’t been the most pleasant man to be around--”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“This thing with Laura...it threw me for a loop. It made me realize that you have to seize every moment, and appreciate what you have. Glenn truly loved Laura, but Laura only loved--”

“Herself.”   
  
“Correct. And since I’m fortunate enough to love you so much, and have you love me….”

“Chief, just get to the point.” The sting of her words was softened by the smile on her face. 

“Anything you say,” Perry replied, giving a smile that matched hers. “Then for the 58th time; Della Catherine Street, will you marry me?”

Perry’s hands fumbled for just a moment, as he reached into his right hand jacket pocket, and produced a small, velvet box, opening it to reveal a platinum band mounted with a 3-carat diamond, surrounded by 5 smaller diamonds on each side. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Perry….it’s….it’s  _ gorgeous _ ,” Della breathed, as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Of course I’ll marry you.” On impulse, she pulled him towards her, and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I have to ask you. Do you always carry engagement rings around in your pocket, Counsellor?” She held onto Perry with one hand, and admired the ring on her finger of the other. 

“Hardly. The other 57 times I asked you, I’ll admit to having absolutely nothing in my pockets. Sometimes, I didn’t even have pockets.”

“Then where--”

“I went to the Los Angeles National Bank, and took it out of the safe deposit box. That’s why I didn’t ask you to come with me, Della. I wanted it to be a surprise. To be honest, I didn’t think I would be proposing today, but since you beat me to the punch and answered my question before I asked it yet again….well, carpe diem, and all. Do you know something? I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am right at this moment.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And here we come to the final chapter! Make sure to leave us a review or two if you enjoyed the story! Quick character note: Stefan is a character from another PM movie, "TCOT Notorious Nun'. He is a bishop in the catholic church and is an old friend of Perry and Della's. Further knowledge of his character is not necessary for enjoyment of his role here!

Two days later, Stefan was seated at his desk, reading through a chapter of 1st Corinthians, when someone knocked gently at his door.

"Come in," he called, slipping the ribbon into the pages and setting the book to the side. Della Street's smiling face peeked around the door first, and to no one's surprise, connected to her at the elbow was Perry Mason. They were both dressed up, and Stefan was almost about to ask if they were attending a party when a third person followed Perry through the door.

"We were in the neighborhood and decided to stop by," Perry explained, taking a seat in one of the chairs across the desk from Stefan. "This is Paul Drake, Jr."

"We met many many years ago for his baptism, I believe," Stephan recalled.

"He's grown a bit since then," Della teased in a motherly tone. She had been dedicated as his godmother at that ceremony, and Perry had been named the baby's godfather. It pleased Stefan to see that the bonds had remained.

"Very nice to meet you again," he said, extending a hand, which Paul accepted and shook vigorously. "Something tells me you didn't just come to play gin, although that could be arranged," Stefan asked. Della smiled broadly.

"We are wondering if you could perform a marriage ceremony," Perry stated. Stefan looked to Paul Jr.

"I must say, I will always love the privilege of performing someone's baptism and their wedding. Now, let me see," he said, searching through his drawers for his calendar. "Have you selected a date? I'll of course want to meet your young lady-"

"Hold up, hold up," Paul interrupted, raising his hands. "It's for them."

Stefan looked between the faces of his visitors for a moment.

"I'm making an honest man of him," Della teased. Stefan registered the glittering diamond on her hand, which was resting on the arm of Perry's chair.

"Congratulations!" he exclaimed, joy standing him straight up out of his chair. He shook Perry's hand across the desk and looked between his old friends. "Well, the question stands. A date?"

"We were thinking today, if you could swing it," Della said. "We have the license right here." Perry reached into his breast pocket and removed the document.

Stefan examined it carefully. He should have known it would happen this way. He might have predicted this a few decades earlier; Perry and Della followed no timeline but their own. He reached for his stole.

"I'd be honored."

"I'm the witness," Paul offered. "And I'm giving the bride away."

"What do you say?" Perry asked.

Stefan stood up and reached for his leather-bound Book of Church Order. "Only one thing I can say. Stand and join hands please. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"


End file.
